Breasts: Not just for decoration
Every so often I hear about something so unjust, so wrong that I want to devote myself to fighting against it, possibly for the rest of my life. And by “every so often” I mean “actually quite often – too often to let myself follow through”. I don’t fight those wars, except sometimes with an “entries that matter” blog entry.
Breastfeeding: It’s necessary to sustain life. It’s not particularly schedulable. If a mother wants to venture out in public for more than an hour at a time, she’s going to have to breastfeed out there, in the world. Yet it’s still technically illegal in many places around the world. And I admit I am one of many who are uncomfortable with public breastfeeding (whether it’s me or someone else).
To which, may I say, WTF?! Right now during the day Louisette needs to be fed every two and a half hours. A single feed takes up to an hour. So if I want to do anything without breastfeeding, I need to do it in under an hour and a half, including transport there and back. Imagine your life in 1.5-hour chunks. Could you even get to work and back in that time?
A part of me wishes I was the kind of woman who would just breastfeed in public any time I had to (without suffocating Louisette in a modesty blanket), and therefore help to open doors for other women to be able to feed their infants AND have a life. For our society (including, frankly, me) to feel comfortable with breastfeeding, we need it to happen, and happen a lot of times a day. But it’s not a fight I’m willing to join – for me, it’s just too hard.
Here are a couple of photos from Blue Milk of women I admire. I’m proud to say that the second is a politician feeding her kid in my own home town of Canberra. Thanks to her, Parliament House has now become an accredited workplace for the Australian Breastfeeding Association.
*Blue Milk is a feminist/parenting blog. Because of open discussions of sex, sexuality and violent sex, it is not safe for young or sensitive readers.
Steampunk Forums
Like to talk to other steampunks? There are forums at Brass Goggles and Steampunk Debate. Thanks to Silver Goggles for the blogroll links.
I’m not super familiar with any of those three sites, so you’ll need to make up your own mind whether you like them or not. In the meantime, here’s Louisette Discovering Her First Device (she is too young to even realise her hands belong to her, so I placed the ring in her hand to see what happened):
A time to write
Every so often I meet a moron. Here’s how it goes:
Them: You’re a writer? me too!
Me: Oh, what do you write?
Them: Oh, anything really.
Me: What are you working on at the moment?
Them: Wellllll. . . . at the moment I’m studying/working/waiting for inspiration.
To which I say (silently): Bah!
And I’m not the only one.
If you don’t WANT to write – don’t. If you don’t have the time to write – don’t. Live a happy and productive life. Just don’t pretend you and I have a major life purpose in common.
Writers write. Mostly because they can’t help it.
Right now, for example, I should be feeding my infant. Excuse me.
“Across the Nightingale Floor” Lian Hearn’s Otori trilogy book 2 of 4.5
Tomasu is a boy, an innocent member of a village in which the Hidden live peacefully. The Hidden believe that all men are equal before God – putting themselves on an equal footing with the greatest members of the warrior class. For this dangerous and insulting belief, they are hated.
The rest of this review is at Comfy Chair, where I get paid for it.
I can see our restaurant from here
When CJ and I had been dating six months, we had outdone all our previous relationships by a lot, and we celebrated by going to the Telstra Tower revolving restaurant, Alto. It’s super expensive, but we really enjoyed it, and decided to go back someday, for some major occasion. “Like when I get published,” I said. “Or when we have a kid,” said CJ.
As you may have heard, we recently had a kid. We also recently had a three-year wedding anniversary. And I realised that, since Louisette is partly on formula, we could have her babysat for more than an hour at a time. And voila! We returned to the restaurant. We spent way too much money (sidebar: entry to the tower is $7.50, which must be paid in cash – so make sure you have enough change if you visit), and I had two cocktails (yep, that’s right – two). It was a perfect night.
One of the great things about the Alto restaurant is that, as you drive up the mountain you catch tantalising glimpses of the tower through the trees – and glimpses of the view below too.
In the restaurant, the view is constantly changing as the restaurant revolves, and it’s all beautiful. Canberra is a special city. Believe it or not, the restaurant is quite central (despite all the trees and water).
The food tends to appear as beautifully presented, rich, tiny servings. That’s my appletini on the right.
If you time it right (which we always do) you can also watch the sun set.
The drink on the left is a masquerade, which CJ drank (cream, butterscotch schnapps, and creme de cacao). On the right is mine, featuring Baileys and vanilla vodka.
MmmmmMMMMmmm.
(There are different schools of thought on breastfeeding and alcohol. The middle ground is, “Yeah, it’s okay to have a bit every so often – but try to drink just after a feed so it has time to get out of your system before you pass it on to the baby.”)
Good morning!
It’s my birthday today – traditionally a day when people of a certain age (my age, that is) wonder what they’re doing with their life. Having a new baby certainly answers that question. After eight months of being too sick to do anything but pass the time, it’s great to be so busy. (And yes, I had a birthday party too – featuring a whole lot of soft cheese and takeaway Indian food.) I still sometimes miss Louisette when she’s in another room. It helps that CJ usually takes her when she’s crying.
Pretty much everything a baby enjoys can become a bad habit. For example, babies naturally fall asleep after a feed (have some warm milk in the evening yourself and you’ll see the effect never really wears off). This is fine until the baby reaches a point where it’s impossible for them to fall asleep any other way. Actually that’s how they’re born – unable to fall asleep any other way. They don’t know how to fall asleep. Which is why most people who advise on this sort of thing say that a baby must have a feed – WAKE – sleep cycle (that lasts about three hours, and repeats over and over). So that’s what we’ve been working on the last few days. It generally goes a bit like this:
Feed: Louisette is woken for her three-hourly meal. After five minutes, she’s too sleepy to feed properly and has to be constantly woken up. (Feeding still hurts, by the way.)
Wake: I take a barely-conscious baby upstairs and sing and talk to her. She slowly wakes up, and for perhaps ten minutes gazes around her with interest. Then she gets sick of the world and cries for up to two hours. Sometimes she’s easy to console or entertain, and sometimes she’s not. I often sleep while CJ tends to her (it’s not particularly easy to sleep under those circumstances, but it’s smarter than not trying).
Sleep: Eventually she falls asleep, and the cycle begins again. She now has the bad habit of only falling asleep when someone is holding her – but at least that means both CJ and I (and babysitters) can put her to sleep. So, progress then.
She’s awake more now that she’s a little older, and having more breast milk than formula (she has about 150 Mls of formula per day, but at present I’m not able to reduce it any more because there clearly still isn’t enough breastmilk). Mercifully, the “wake” part of the routine isn’t necessary at night, so she can and does go straight to sleep after her night feeds. It’s also the time of day when the three-hourly feeds (that’s from the beginning of one feed to the beginning of the next – so usually there’s only a two-hour gap between feeds at best) stretch increasingly far. She regularly sleeps four hours in a stretch after midnight, and she’s twice slept for five hours all in one go (she’s too young to sleep any longer than that – if she didn’t wake up, I’d wake her anyway). So that’s good.
Today the three of us went and acquired passport photos – no mean feat for a three-week old (who must have her eyes open and mouth closed for the photo, and be looking at the camera! Plus no arms or legs in the photo, and no mum or dad holding her head in place). I managed to time it just right for that ten minutes of adorable alertness just after a feed and before the crying. Babies – especially babies who will be well-travelled before they’re half a year old – need a LOT of forms. Registration of the birth, medicare forms, tax forms, baby bonus form, passport, visa, etc.
Some of you may have heard of “Project 365” which just means “take a photo of yourself every day for one year”. I’m doing that for Louisette, and will be posting my favourites from the first month right here at this time next week (when Louisette will be exactly a month old). Some days are pretty average, and other days are brilliant – but you’ll see all that for yourself next week.
My new favourite bookshop
Many Canberrans were heartbroken this year when Borders closed. But late last year I entered the magical realm of the Beyond Q bookshop. CJ and I descended the stairs into a giant basement, greeted before we entered by some live jazz and the smell of coffee. There was a sign in the front entrance asking if anyone had seen the parrot that usually resides inside the shop.
Various antiques were scattered here and there among the shelves – rumour has it the shelves would stretch over a kilometre if placed end to end.
I was quite lost, and perfectly content. And then I found the young adult section and – oh, *swoon*. So many of my friends were there, waiting to be bought.
It was a good day.
Where is your favourite bookshop, and why do you love it so?
Letter to my 16-year old self
I recently read a book called “Dear Me” in which various personalities wrote a letter to their 16-year old self. Figured I may as well do the same. Here is the result.
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Dear Louise,
Let’s start with the good news: in the future, you are happily married. You also benefit a lot from your self-control regarding sex before marriage (the ‘stay as far away as possible’ theory is a good one – your husband is even more grateful than you are), as well as alcohol etc. On the other hand, you would be a more balanced person if you were a little less concerned about resisting peer pressure and a lot more concerned with enjoying life – and even fitting in with the crowd. Shave your legs; wear jeans; spend more time on your appearance; listen to secular music until you figure out what you like; show off your legs and waist (both are great, and the boys around you will not die of lust).
Most people are driven by pleasure. You are not. You are driven by meaning. Unfortunately, changing the world takes more than hard work – it takes a certain amount of luck as well, which you don’t have. Make pleasure a higher priority – whatever you enjoy, do more. Stop trying to protect your mum and sister, and protect or save everyone you meet. Make friends with people because they are interesting and mentally healthy and enjoyable company (even if they seem too good for you) not because they’re insecure or you think you can help them in some way.
You’re correct in your knowledge that writing will never make a career. But since it’s fun, keep doing it. Incidentally, it will save you a LOT of pain if you keep these two things in mind: for children and YA books, the protagonist is a few years older than the target age group, and they stay that way for the whole book (ie no epic YA, and no growing out of YA into an adult eg with marriage and babies – it’s just not relevent for a fifteen-year old reader). Children’s books are about 30,000 words (depending on the target audience, of course), and YA is usually 60,000 to 80,000 words. Don’t stray too far from that (a 50,000 word first draft works well for you).
Despite what church culture tells you, God is not your best friend or your boyfriend. He’s more like a boss – a truly excellent boss, who would literally die for you, but one who leaves you to bumble along and figure things out yourself to a surprising extent.
That being said, there are two things God said to you that you should have listened to more. First, you need to keep saying, “I MIGHT become a missionary to Indonesia” rather than, “I will become a missionary to Indonesia” (but you’re absolutely right about that six-month trip you take when you’re 18 – nothing else in life will ever be as hard, and the experience is well worth it). Second, you need to take advantage of your youth while you have it. Travel, spend money on stupid things, drink cocktails, and stay up all night. Learn to live in the present.
Speaking of church culture, you need to accept that people don’t take the Bible as literally as they think they do – and that’s a good thing. Ask yourself why everyone is so pleased with your parents’ marriage (when divorce and remarriage is so clearly and emphatically condemned by Jesus himself), but so angered by gay marriage (which gets a couple of passing mentions in Paul’s letters). God is love, and it actually is that simple. I know how much courage it takes to stand up, seemingly against the entire world, and say, “Homosexuality is wrong.” Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately), that courage is based on ignorance of God’s kindness.
Being single gets easier, not harder, as you get older. Even when things get much worse (which they will, and I’m sorry), you will be happier the older you get.
From Louise (age 30)
PS Make sure you go to the Pirate Ball in September 2006, dressed as Jack Sparrow (you’ll know who that is at the time) with Chris Northey (ditto). It changes everything.
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Explanation of letter: To some extent, I felt I had to be careful not to give away too much (you’ve seen the time travel movies; you know why). Other than marriage and a gorgeous baby (each of which changes everything), I feel like my life is a pretty awful prospect for anyone to envision as their future, so it took a while for me to think of what to say.
Ultimately this letter aims to alleviate my own future/past pain – the guilt of giving up Indonesia and wondering if my life has any meaning (or if God is out to get me), the pain of mental illness (perhaps if I’d lived a more chilled out life I’d have turned out okay), and the lack of major novel publication – which would have happened years ago if I’d known then what I know now about basic YA dos and don’ts. But the pirate ball was where I met CJ, so THAT needs to still happen.
And here’s a pretty picture, just because:
The Steampunk Scholar
The Steampunk Scholar is a brilliant in-depth resource on all things steampunk fiction. He’s doing a PhD, so the “scholar” part is not just for the alliteration.
This is his post on the best of 2011, and this is the best part (I’ve unlinked things, so you’ll have to click through to the post to know what he’s referring to):
- Steampunk! – Candlewick anthology edited by Kelly Link and Gavin J. Grant – check out my review at Tor.comto see why.
- Heartless by Gail Carriger – I’ll be writing a series of posts leading up to the release of Timeless, the final book in the Parasol Protectorate series. In the meantime, I’ll simply say that anyone who has naysayed Carriger’s inclusion in the steampunk fold due to a lack of technofantasy should be reviewing their crow recipes. This is the best book of the series since Soulless, and was a delight to read.
- Curious Case of the Clockwork Man by Mark Hodder – read my reviewto find out why Hodder is one of the strongest voices in second wave steampunk fiction.
- Goliath by Scott Westerfeld – check out my retrospective on the Leviathan trilogyfor why this was such a satisfying ending to one of the best steampunk series, and why it shouldn’t be dismissed simply for being YA.
- Empire of Ruins by Arthur Slade – another YA novel you shouldn’t be avoiding, and the reasons why.
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I am a huge fan of Gail Carringer, Scott Westerfeld, and anyone who can see YA as a genre worthy of adult reading. As soon as I’ve posted this, I’ll be ordering every other book on this list from my local library. If they’re there, I’ll read and review them for you.
All about agents (PG swearing)
I had to link to this article, because one of the blogs I follow was recommended by another blog I follow. Chuck Wendig is a naughty, naughty man and his language and metaphors can be M/MA at times. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. The man has a wicked way with words.
Here’s some snippets from a doubly-great article:
Agents have seen it all. They are the first line of defense in the war against Bad Books and Shitty Storytelling. It’s a wonder that some of them don’t just snap and try to take out half of New York City with a dirty bomb made of radioactive stink-fist query letters and cat turd manuscripts.
. . .
It’s easy to imagine agents as iron-hearted gatekeepers guarding the gates of Publishing Eden with their swords of fire: marketing angels serving the God of the Almighty Dollar. Most of the agents I know and have met are readers first. They do this because they love this, not because it pays them in private jets and jacuzzis filled with 40-year-Macallan Scotch. They like to read. They love books. Which is awesome.
And here’s your weekly cat pic:
Felicity Banks 